


HubernieHalloweek: Stalker

by snekatteck



Category: Fire Emblem Series, Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: F/M, Gen, Hubernie Halloween Week 2020 (Fire Emblem), Pre-Timeskip | Academy Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), he deserves to have a little spook. as a treat, hubert gets a little spooked heheh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-26
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:13:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27188444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snekatteck/pseuds/snekatteck
Summary: For Hubernie Halloweek over on twitter.Hubert starts sensing funky things one day. I wonder what's going on in his head?
Relationships: Bernadetta von Varley & Hubert von Vestra, Bernadetta von Varley/Hubert von Vestra
Kudos: 16





	HubernieHalloweek: Stalker

**Author's Note:**

> Hello. Shoutouts to @huberniehallow on twitter for making prompts and stuff! This one's just a little something I knocked out real quick for the week. I could not help myself once I had the idea, lmao. I'm so sorry, Hubert.

Hubert woke up just fine today. Same as ever. The same cool draft blew in from outside the monastery, coaxing him from bed. It was time to nab an early breakfast at the dining hall before the chaos of the day began. Before Ferdinand would hound him down, and so boisterously remind him of how wrong he was in his methods. The absolute nerve. 

He liked the calm, soothing atmosphere of the fresh day anyway. He needed no one else but himself to indulge in his morning of coffee and curry.

. . .

So why did he feel something watching him? Everyone else was focused on their meals. Guards and soldiers were simply filling up for the day. There was no need for such instincts to drive him up this way. And yet, he couldn’t help himself. 

When he turned his head around to look towards the door to the gazebo, he could have sworn he heard the shuffling and fumbling of _someone_. He knew he saw a small, mysterious figure staring at him from the shade.

_[What the hell is THAT thing?!]_

He locked eyes with the vague shape. It was very far away, and he could tell its own eyes were staring right at _him_. The hairs on his back stood up. Something about its stare bore a hole into his chest, pinning him to the seat he was at. His appetite spoiled, but he did not have the willpower to get up and leave. 

A priest walked by, and when her cape trailed past the door, the figure was gone.

Hubert von Vestra, Edelgard’s sinister servant, made quick work of his meal, which was still untouched this whole time since seeing the shadowy spectre.

* * *

Hubert seldom visited the fishing pond. He was not much of a fisher, and he had better places to find peace and quiet in, such as the library. But he dearly needed a break from reality, so here he was. Sitting at the fisher’s pier. Anything to distract him from thinking about the figure he saw. He was not usually this disturbed, so why did this bother him so much?

Was it a ghost? No, he learned long ago that the voices of the dead were not to be feared. 

Perhaps it was… no…

Are _they_ planning something against his back?

He was deep in thought when he peered into his own reflection upon the lake and saw another blurred face with him vanishing. He shot up, knife brandished, ready to confront the anomaly. 

A clean swish of his knife hissed in the air.

No one. Absolutely no one.

He swore off visiting the fishing pond forever after that stunt. He thought he looked insane. With his senses tilted, he may as well be on that path to insanity now.

* * *

  
  


There was that looming presence again. For hours, Hubert was subjected to this feeling. Someone out there was watching him. _Stalking him_. The very same presence that came from the direction of the sound of footsteps. He gripped the knife in his sleeve and bit his cheek as he walked. He could use another coffee right about now...

Everywhere he went, he could not escape this inching, creeping threat. It followed him to class where he could not focus with eyes boring into his back. It followed to the training grounds where he nearly slung Miasma at Caspar in a panicked adrenaline rush. It even followed him to choir practice, where he could not even bother reading the hymn as his very body was gutted into by an estranged spectator, huddled next to the pillar.

It was on his way back from the cathedral that he saw a tuft of a purple peaking beyond the door.

And so began his own game of hide-and-seek. He watched this purple thing hover by the stairs of the second floor, and stalked it at last to the infirmary.

He took a moment to look around. No one was here, not a soul. Then. . .

“Um-ah!”

He turned towards the sound and at last, was met with his stalking, cryptic ghoul. Only, it wasn’t a ghoul. Of course it wasn't a ghoul. It wasn't even an assassin.

It was Bernadetta, arms flung in front of her as a shield. _How quaint._

“Ah, why if it isn’t Bernadetta? Good afternoon.” He greeted her, careful not to make any further movement. When he proved his immediate lack of murderous intentions, she slung her arms back and took a minute to compose herself. She was obviously getting better at this whole bravery thing, if she hadn’t left in a panic yet.

“Um, Hubert?”

“Yes?”

“I just… um… I wanted to thank you. For the other day. You know, when I… fainted. Thank you for carrying me back to my room.”

Ah. That business. He remembered it well. When he told her not to run with needles, and she proceeded to faint right in front of his face while standing up. He learned that night just how eccentric the daughter of Count Varley could be. His lips curved up the slightest bit. “That was nothing. It saved me effort in the long run. Leaving you there would have just caused even more trouble.”

“I guess that's true. Well, thanks. There, I said it, and now I'm going.” 

That’s all it was. That’s all this whole scare was, wasn’t it? She really did this for that long, didn’t she? All his hours, wasting away. Rotting into a nervous, stressed out beast. And all she wanted to do was thank him. He felt like a monster for his next words. If she was going to bother him for hours, then he for sure was not going to let her simply walk away like she tried to do. “Hold it.” he ordered. 

Bernadetta froze in place. He heard her tiny little gulp. He had to admit, she was a little endearing.

The silent memo taken, she came back and sat down at one of the beds. She cautiously tilted her head up to watch him, then he continued.

“Is this why you’ve been circling me like a _vulture_ for the last several hours?”

He could see the flash of guilt in her eyes. This was going to be a long talk.

**Author's Note:**

> And that's when the rest of the conversation begins. Oh Hubert... pls give Bernie a break I know she scared you but cmon.


End file.
